


Even Werewolves Get the Blues... and Yellows

by Cobrilee



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [13]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Don't expect too much, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, fluff and feelings, i wrote this at one in the morning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-26 17:59:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12064137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cobrilee/pseuds/Cobrilee
Summary: Derek gets an impromptu makeover, Stiles gets some mileage out of it, and they both get a happy ending. (Not that kind. Get your minds out of the gutter.)





	Even Werewolves Get the Blues... and Yellows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mikkimouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikkimouse/gifts).



> Originally posted on my [Tumblr](http://cobrilee.tumblr.com/) [here](http://cobrilee.tumblr.com/post/165242546329/fic-even-werewolves-get-the-blues-and). Prompt: “Be honest with me. Did you mean it?” or “What happened to your hair?!” (Bonus points if you can use both!)

“What happened to your  _ hair _ ?” 

Stiles knows he’s staring, but the one thing that is a constant certainty in his life is that Derek Hale will always look perfect. Regardless of whether he’s looming and glaring in a white tee, leather jacket, and jeans so tight there is nothing left to the imagination, or if he’s warm and cozy with thumbhole sweaters, delicious scruff, and soft hair that Stiles wants to run his fingers through, or if he’s sweaty and bloody with ripped tank tops and claws and fangs, Derek is always sexy and striking.

Right now, however, he’s… not.

Derek glowers at him, running his hand over… whatever that is on his head. “Melody,” he growls, and the single word suddenly makes everything make sense.

“You let the six-year-old on the first floor play beauty salon with you?” Stiles surmises, failing utterly to bite back his snicker.

“She looked up at me with those huge gray eyes and I couldn’t say no!” he snaps, but the helpless shrug of his shoulders is endearing, and Stiles takes pity on him.

“That’s why everybody loves you,” he remarks off-handedly. He reaches over to ruffle what remains of Derek’s hair, the uneven, chopped-up locks a blend of neon blue and a sickly, muddy yellow. “How did she even manage these colors?” he marvels, and Derek shoots him a side-eye that is truly award-worthy.

“ _ That’s _ what you take from this?”

“No,” he replies, gracing Derek with a cheeky grin. “What I take from this is obviously that your werewolf healing mojo does not extend to your hair.”

Derek’s fulminating stare is tempered with fondness, and his sigh is just a touch more put-upon than necessary. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Stiles counters confidently. Plopping down on the couch, he glances over his shoulder to where Derek stands with his arms crossed over his chest. He fights the affectionate smile that wants to sneak onto his lips. “C’mon, Der, you know you’re always the prettiest princess. I just like getting to see you be not-quite-godlike. You know I’m going to take advantage of the opportunity to tease you.”

Derek scoffs as he drops down onto the couch beside him. “You haven’t missed an opportunity to tease me since you met me.”

“True,” Stiles concedes affably. He thumbs the power button on the remote and clicks the button for Netflix, and he’s pleased when Derek makes no noise of complaint. Settling into the cushions, he scrolls through Derek’s queue. “This list is a travesty,” he complains.

“Why? Because there aren’t any superhero movies?” Derek shoots back dryly, and Stiles makes a face at him.

“No, big guy, because there are no classic werewolf movies on here. I’m disappointed in you.”

Derek takes the remote from him and scrolls to the search function. “Those are riddled with inaccuracies and false representation,” he grumbles, and Stiles reaches out again to pet the prickly chunks of yellow, smoothing them down into the ragged strands of blue. 

“Of course you would be worried about the message a cheesy B-level horror movie would send,” Stiles snorts. Derek swats at his hand, but it’s half-hearted. “Are you going to do anything about this mess on your head?”

Derek hesitates, then refuses to meet his eyes when he mumbles, “I don’t want Melody to see me and have her feelings hurt because I changed it.”

Stiles isn’t too proud to say his heart thumps unsteadily, and this time he lets the fond smile cross his face. “You’re a good man, Derek Hale,” he says, voice quiet, then resolutely focuses on the TV when Derek turns to study him, eyebrows lifted in surprise. Neither of them say another word as Derek chooses the newest Spider-Man reboot and the movie begins.

By the time it’s over, Stiles is slumped over and his head is pressed low enough against the back of the couch that his cheek is squished up against Derek’s shoulder. Derek nudges him a little and he sits up, rubbing at the lines creasing his skin as a result of laying on the wrinkles in the fabric of Derek’s tee. “Thanks for the entertainment, Der. You saved me from another night by myself at home.”

He’s halfway off the couch when Derek blurts out, “When you called me a good man. Be honest with me, did you mean it?”

Stiles blinks; the question, and the obvious nerves behind it, have caught him off guard. “Of course I did.” He might like to mess with Derek, a lot, but this is something he could never joke about. “You’re probably the best man I’ve ever met, aside from my dad. Why do you think I’ve stuck by you for so long?”

Derek’s eyes soften, lit by something that looks suspiciously like hope, and Stiles’ heart flutters at the idea that maybe he’s not the only one who’s been feeling  _ things _ . “I always figured you saw me as your best bet at staying alive.”

“My best bet at staying alive would have been to stay far the hell away from werewolves,” Stiles counters wryly. “I stuck with you and the rest of the pack because I trusted you, and believed in you. I fought with you, and  _ for _ you, because I always considered you  _ my _ pack.” He pauses, considering. “Okay, not always. Definitely not at first. But eventually, yeah, you were mine.”

The loaded double meaning of his last words aren’t lost on either of them. He gnaws on his lower lip while he waits for Derek to process them, then stops when he realizes he’s probably making hamburger of his mouth. 

The vulnerable expression on Derek’s face melts away into something hungrier, more primitive, and Stiles’ blood races through his veins while he waits for Derek to make the next move. When Derek’s hand snakes out to curve around his hip and tug Stiles into his lap, Stiles lets out a surprised, broken-off laugh before landing abruptly against hard thighs. The sound dies in his throat as it goes dry. “You were always mine,” Derek murmurs, his gaze dropping to Stiles’ mouth. “Always. I just didn’t know it.”

“When did you figure it out?” Stiles is proud of himself when his voice doesn’t break or go breathless. 

Derek lifts a thumb, swiping it gently across Stiles’ bottom lip, which he figures is probably bitten red if the swollen feeling is any indication. “I started getting an idea when you were possessed,” he admits. “But I knew for sure in Mexico. Or I guess I should say, that’s when I stopped trying to lie to myself.”

“When you were dying,” Stiles acknowledges quietly, which Derek confirms with a nod. “I didn’t want to go. My best friend was in trouble and I would have stayed with you without question, if you hadn’t made me go.”

“You needed to,” Derek reminds him, voice gentle. “But if it’s any consolation, sending you away was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

Considering the number of horrible things Derek has had to do in his life, Stiles is kind of awestruck that this is the thing he considers the hardest. Swallowing, he reaches out to wrap his fingers over the back of Derek’s neck, playing with the few remaining black hairs at his nape. They’re a mix of fuzzy and silky under his fingertips, and he strokes them lovingly. 

“The new look is growing on me,” Stiles confesses, giving Derek a lopsided smile. “I think you owe Melody a thank you.”

Derek huffs out a laugh. “You think?”

Stiles settles into his lap, wiggling enough to get himself comfortable… and make Derek a little less so. “Yep, I do. Considering we’d probably still be dancing around how we feel about each other for another couple years if she hadn’t.”

Derek’s eyes twinkle with a sudden burst of mischief. “I think we should invite her over to do your hair, then. As a thank you.”

Stiles pales. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I’ll tell her you like pink and green,” Derek teases, and when Stiles’ mouth opens to express his outrage, Derek dips in and captures his lips, trapping the words between them.

Stiles sinks into it happily, and decides he could rock the pink and green look. 


End file.
